


Careless Whisper

by nsyncgrrl



Category: Music RPF, NSYNC, Pop Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: 1990s, 2000s, Angst, Boyband, Celebrities, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsyncgrrl/pseuds/nsyncgrrl
Summary: This is an mprov I wrote in a chat. I had to use the words glue, George Michael, highlighter, and monkey. It's very short.Justin's confused by the signals Joey's giving him.
Relationships: Joey Fatone/Justin Timberlake
Kudos: 3





	Careless Whisper

The lounge was quiet ... too quiet. Justin couldn't concentrate on the article he was reading. The magazine rested on the desk in front of him, but he hadn't turned the page in the last fifteen minutes, and he kept reading and re-reading the same sentence over and over again. When he closed his eyes, the words were written on the backs of his eyelids, and he didn't know what they meant any longer.

Someone was watching him.

That was why he couldn't concentrate. Someone else was in the lounge, watching him with hooded eyes that Justin could feel boring into his back. He wanted to turn around and yell at his band mate, scream at the older boy, tell him to stop staring at him, for the love of Christ just _stop_ it already, please?

But he didn't say a word. Instead he picked up the highlighter on the desk and began doodling around the corners of the article, the yellow ink slick on the glossy paper. How long had this been going on? Justin wasn't sure anymore. He didn't even know when he first started noticing it. The way the other boy always managed to get him alone. The way he looked at him, as if Justin were the only one who existed anymore. The way his hot gaze lingered down Justin's body in the showers, so that Justin was afraid to linger too long when the others weren't around.

It was like having a monkey on his back, that constant presence. Everywhere he turned he saw those dark eyes, watching him, studying him, waiting.

For what, Justin didn't know.

He heard shuffling behind him as the other boy got up from the sofa. He heard footsteps, and he tensed, waiting, but no one came up behind him. He didn't dare turn around.

From the other side of the room, music began to play softly. Something low, something sad, something that Justin recognized and wanted to sing along with, but that's what he was waiting for, wasn't it? Justin to start singing, so he could comment on how angelic he sounded, how he was so gifted, and Justin would look into those unreadable eyes and wonder just what the hell that was supposed to mean.

And then _he_ started to sing, his voice matching George Michael's pitch perfectly. "And I'm never gonna dance again. Guilty feet have got no rhythm. Though it's easy to pretend, I know you're not a fool."

 _Please,_ Justin thought, closing his eyes. He snapped the cap onto the highlighter and prayed for strength. There was no way he could listen to that voice, not now.

"Should've known better than to cheat a friend and waste this chance that I've been given. So I'm never gonna dance again the way I danced with you."

He felt his blood ignite and footsteps approach behind him. Since they had started this new leg of the tour, his friend had been on him like glue, constantly there, ever present. He felt warm hands on his shoulders, massaging gently, and when that voice whispered into his ear, the room was suddenly too hot, too close. Justin sighed shakily as the hands rubbed his shoulders insistently.

"What'cha reading, Justin?" The words were soft and gentle and Justin fought the urge to pull away.

"Nothing," he mumbled, trying to close the magazine. He didn't know what he was reading, not anymore. Since those incredibly warm hands had touched him, his mind had gone blank.

"Sing with me," his friend said.

"No," Justin replied, shaking his head. "I'm not really ... I don't know this song."

That damnable laugh. Then those hands eased along his shoulders until cool fingertips touched the heated flesh of Justin's neck, and Justin jumped.

Now he pushed his chair back, now he moved away, but the older boy was right behind him, blocking him in, holding him down. "Justin," his friend said again, and Justin bit his lower lip, trying not to whimper at the desire and lust he heard in that one word.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What is it, Joe?"

Behind him, Joey said nothing. Justin waited, his friend's fingers on his throat, soft like the wings of a butterfly. And then they were gone. "Nothing," Joey said, stepping away.

Justin frowned at the magazine as the rest of "Careless Whisper" faded into the air. "Joey, wait --" he cried, turning around, but his friend was already gone.


End file.
